


Inevitable as the Tide

by thethaumas



Series: Micro Fics [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Sex, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4189044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethaumas/pseuds/thethaumas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco's snarky rivalry leads them into friendship. Then one night at Harry's place, they both finally come together in the way they've been separately craving for ages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable as the Tide

**Author's Note:**

> A little gift for Emily, there's an associated picset for this fic on my tumblr if you'd like to see!

They often pass each other in the ministry, Draco striding down the halls to harass another ancient member of the wizengamot, and Harry rushing between meetings to prepare for the next auror head’s promotion. Harry shouts through the crowd just as often and he hears Draco do the same to garner his attention, and when he yells, “Oi, Malfoy, gathering some more guts for your garters?” Draco will shoot him a smile showing off his even, sharp, gleamingly white teeth, before he disappears into the lifts. It’s an odd routine, but Harry likes it, he isn’t sure he would have felt right-footed if he never saw Draco again.  After the war, Harry had gone into auror training with Ron, and was pleased to see Draco’s rise to where he was now as one of the best solicitors in Wallman and Brothers’ docket. It had been quite a surprise to see Draco and Hermione working together to revamp the old laws, and with the two of them tenaciously working at it, Harry knows change is coming to the wizarding world.

Then their shouting across hallways morphs to Draco coming to Harry’s desk with two coffees, sitting half propped on Harry’s desk as he laments the slow moving gears of the wizarding justice system. Saying things like, “Potter, did you even know that there’s still a law in effect that states if a witch dies without putting her husband in her will, her effects will all go to her father? It’s completely barbaric. Luckily no one seems to realize it still is valid,” Draco scoffs and drinks his coffee that Harry is sure is just charmed to look black, he can smell the sweetness wafting over from where he sits. He smiles indulgently at Draco, quickly hiding it behind his own cup.

Soon Harry finds himself taking Draco out to lunch, or being invited back to Draco’s flat for take-away as he goes over his latest case, and Harry mulls over his own case. He doesn’t notice it happening, not really, but then every time their friends invite them anywhere, it’s always the two of them. Not just an invite for Harry, or one just for Draco anymore, but always Harry and Draco. He finds that it warms his heart when he thinks of it.

Was this inevitable all along? Harry wonders as he drapes a blanket over Draco’s sleeping form, where he’d curled up on Harry’s couch after a long night of going over the law edits he and Hermione were working on. Would they have arrived here sooner, had they not had prejudice in the way? Harry is just turning away to tidy up the room when Draco’s hand wraps around his wrist, stilling his movements. Fabric shifts in a quiet whisper and is the only sound in the room aside from their breathing. Harry turns back around and sees Draco has sat back up again, propping himself up on his other elbow.

Harry had already dimmed the lights in the room once he noticed Draco had fallen asleep, and now they are burning low, with the streetlight coming in slated through the blinds, and falling across Draco’s upturned face. Draco’s eyes are still half-lidded from sleep, but they glow in the dim light, sharp, and pinning Harry where he stands. “Harry,” he says in a weighted whisper that has Harry’s heart clenching with want in his chest. Then Draco is pulling him closer by the iron grip he has on Harry’s wrist and saying, “Please,” in such a wrecked voice that it tugs Harry forward.

His knees hit the side of the couch, and then he’s leaning over, holding himself up and above Draco by a hand on the back of the couch, pinned by Draco’s eyes. Harry does not remember when this wanting first came over him, he cannot remember a time becoming suddenly aware of the movements of Draco’s body, or the way his back tapers into his waist, or how heart-stoppingly attractive he looks when he laughs. It isn’t something that came over him all of the sudden, it feels more like the coming in of the tide, slow and inevitable. Like he was destined only for this, as though it was just a matter of detangling himself and Draco before they knew it was always, only, supposed to be this way. Draco lets out a hitched breath as he tilts his head up more to look at Harry, his eyes widening slightly before lowering again, but not before Harry can see the spark of interest in the grey.

Harry shifts his leg up, one knee pressing into the couch next to Draco’s thigh, as he leans even closer and can feel Draco’s breath fluttering across his face. “What do you want, Draco?” he asks, whispering against Draco’s lips.

Draco’s fingers are tracing patterns on Harry’s wrist, and climbing higher up his arm; and Draco lets out a small sigh of air, closing his eyes. No words are needed for Harry at this point, and he closes the distance between them in a short shifting of air. A soft pressing of lips together for the first time, a light greeting, and he feels like something is shifting in his mind, falling into its rightful place, finally. He surges forward, with his free hand he traces Draco’s hairline gently before reaching to cradle the back of Draco’s head, his fingers tangling in the babysoft strands of hair there.

A small broken sound comes from Draco’s throat and then he’s grabbing at Harry’s shoulders, his hands sliding across Harry’s back as he pulls him further onto to couch. Harry shuffles on, resting his knees on either side of Draco’s hips. Then Draco’s tongue comes out, tracing the seam of Harry’s lips and Harry opens to him willingly. He meets Draco’s tongue with his own, tasting him for the first time and feeling like a man given his first taste of life saving water in months. As though he was starved without even realizing it, Harry feels rejuvenated by the slide of Draco’s tongue along his teeth, by the warm presses of his hands on Harry’s back, and by the soft sounds escaping his throat as he insistently pulls and pushes Harry closer.

They are gasping for air when Harry pulls slightly away, but then he ducks back in quickly. He kisses the corner of Draco’s mouth, and makes a trail of kisses up his jawbone. Draco lets out a breathless chuckle and says, “For so long Harry,” he breathes and tugs at Harry’s hair while dragging his fingers through the dark locks. “For so long I’ve wanted this,” he continues with another hitched breath when Harry, who has moved on down Draco’s throat, kissing his skin the entire way, latches onto Draco’s pulse point and grazes his teeth against the sensitive skin there before moving on.

There is a long, jagged scar that curls up from Draco’s chest and ends partway up his neck. Harry has seen it before when Draco wears wider or lower collars–which he dons usually when he’s off to court to show off the dangerous looking scar. Harry knows what it is, he knows he will find more, bisecting each other and littering Draco’s torso, and he feels guilt squeeze hard around his heart. “I’m sorry,” he says and kisses the scar, his tongue tracing the raised line of flesh.

Draco shudders underneath him, his fingers clenching in Harry’s hair. “It is done,” he says in a slightly shaky voice while Harry continues to ravish attention on the scars he can reach, trying to pepper touches of love over where hatred left a lasting mark. He lets out a rattling breath and pulls Harry’s face up, kissing him soundly. When he pulls back again for air, his eyes are lidded with arousal and he is watching Harry intently. “I’ve wanted you for far too long,” he says, “For this to get in the way.”

“How long?” Harry asks, his voice sounding thick and hoarse, and not like his own at all. He feels heavy and slow. As though now that he has Draco in his arms the world has decided to slow down to let them savour their time together, like someone poured molasses into Harry, making him take his time. He cannot get enough of the clean and salty taste of Draco’s skin, and the taste that is purely, only, Draco. Harry laves his tongue along Draco’s collarbone, pulling aside his tight fitting shirt to access more skin as he does, and waits for a response.

“An eternity,” Draco says with a laugh, his fingers tracing the shells of Harry’s ears.

Harry laughs in return and raises his head from kissing more of Draco’s skin, “You still love overdramatics,” he says with a shake of his head.

Draco grins to show off his pointed canines and presses Harry’s head forward. “Perhaps I need to be kissed into silence then.”

For a second Harry quirks his lips into a grin, before he covers Draco’s with his once more. He presses a little closer, sitting in Draco’s lap, settling in the cradle of his hips, and feels like he could get addicted to this–kissing Draco, being surrounded by Draco. When he shifts in Draco’s lap he can feel the hard line of Draco’s erection brushing against his inner thigh, and both of them groan at the contact. Harry feels like the light touch has lit a fire in his gut, and feeling spurred on, he shifts again, rubbing against Draco. Draco thrusts his hips up, making their erections brush together and Harry’s head lolls back on his shoulders at the feeling. When Draco’s hands find and cup Harry’s ass to keep him in place while Draco moves his hips under Harry, Harry lets out a low moan, his fingers tightening in their grip on Draco’s shoulders.

He briefly thinks that perhaps they shouldn’t, not yet. That this is too soon. Then Draco is tipping him backward and Harry sprawls out on the couch with Draco’s lips on his throat, and Draco’s hips between the wide splay of Harry’s legs.

“Oh,” Harry manages to breathe when Draco’s hands slip under his shirt and skirt along the hot skin of his stomach.

Draco stalls, pulls back, and looks up at Harry with worry tightening the corners of his eyes. “This isn’t–” he starts, but falters and doesn’t finish. He bites his lip and tries again, “You’re not–”

Harry can’t help but laugh a little once he cottons on to Draco’s train of thought “No,” he says and enjoys the way Draco’s gaze heats at his words. “It’s just different with you.”

“Oh?” Draco asks, his hands brushing along Harry’s chest and pushing his shirt up as he does. “Really?”

Harry can feel his skin warming and bites his lip, he is feeling unaccountably shy. “It’s more–” he tries to explain, “It’s more important.” Draco takes in an audible breath, his gaze arrested on Harry’s face, his hands stilling as they inch over Harry’s ribcage. Harry shifts up a little, covering one of Draco’s hand with his and reaching up to cup Draco’s cheek with his other. “You are,” Harry says quietly before sitting up more to kiss Draco again.

With a small keening noise, Draco presses himself desperately against Harry, kissing him hard and pushing him back down onto the couch. “Harry,” he groans as he settles against Harry’s body, and Harry echos the sentiment. “ _Harry_ ,” Draco’s voice is hoarse as his hands return to Harry’s chest and tug at his shirt.

Harry nods and helps pull his shirt off, and then Draco bends his head and kisses across Harry’s chest. While Harry has been with others before, never had the press of another’s lips on his skin, or another’s body against his, elicited this same feeling like he could never get enough of Draco’s touch; nor has he ever felt like his entire being was aflame by the mere proximity of another the way Draco has him feeling  _alive_. He pulls Draco’s face back up to kiss him fiercely, feeling overwhelmed, but also like it isn’t enough.

He reaches between them to unbutton Draco’s shirt, but then Draco breaks this kiss, his hands on top of and stopping Harry’s. “Harry,” he says, warning in his tone.

“Please,” Harry says, staring into Draco’s eyes, needing this, needing to do this.

Draco takes in a sharp breath through his nose and closes his eyes, letting his hands fall away from Harry’s, letting Harry continue to unbutton his shirt. It slides off in a whisper of cloth against skin. Draco still holds his eyes closed, his breathing is shallow. Even with the dim light of the room shadowing them, Harry can see the damage he wrought on Draco’s body all those years ago. The heavy guilt over his foolish actions crashes into him all at once, and it is with trembling hands that Harry brushes his fingers reverently, apologetically, over Draco’s scars. He can feel Draco pull in a quick breath at his touch, and he wonders what is going through Draco’s mind–all Harry can think of is how stupid he’d been as a teenager, how close he’d come to never even knowing Draco at all.

His breath catches in his chest.

“Draco,” he manages to force out of his throat, his voice croaking and shattered. Draco’s eyes snap open, and then he’s staring at Harry, not with regret, nor with hatred, but with guarded curiosity. Harry can’t smile, he feels like that would be a trespass in this moment, instead he darts forward to press a quick apologetic kiss to Draco’s lips. Then he’s pressing his hands against Draco’s shoulders and forcing him to tip backward and lie down on the couch himself. Draco is pliant, but his gaze is heavy on Harry all the while.

Then Harry is crawling up Draco’s body, and he begins to kiss and lick his apologies into each scar that mars the alabaster skin in front of him. Streetlight and moonlight sluice through the blinds, leaving more white lines across Draco’s chest, and Harry’s attention is caught for the moment. Draco is light, and an almost marble-esque kind of untouchable gorgeous, laid out before Harry as he is. Harry feels slight and insignificant for a breath. Draco was named for the stars, he carries legacy within him, and has worked tirelessly to rise from the ashes of his former life in order to become the rising star of solicitors that he is today. Where Draco holds within him the magnificence of the stars, Harry is as he’s always been: just Harry. And at some point he’d had the deep hatred within himself to permanently mark someone else, and now that thought, along with the physical evidence, has Harry unsure if he really is something good, someone good.

Draco seems to sense the path Harry’s thoughts have traveled down for he takes hold of Harry’s hands from where they are splayed on his chest, and brings them up to his lips, where he gently kisses Harry’s knuckles. “We’re here now, Harry.” He says, his voice thick and urgent. Then he is pulling Harry down and kissing him fiercely, like he can kiss Harry’s doubts about his worth away if he tries hard enough.

Harry falls into Draco, fitting together like their bodies were made together and had only been waiting for them to reunite. As their breaths mingle, and tongues tie together, Harry feels the urgency of his arousal rear up again. He thrusts against Draco’s hips, shuddering in pleasure when their erections brush through their trousers. When he runs his hands down Draco’s bare chest he swallows down the sharp spike of guilt and instead relishes in the heat of Draco’s skin and the way his chest moves with each gasping breath he takes.

They pull apart to breathe, and Harry cannot help grinning at the flush that has blossomed on Draco’s skin, staining his chest and his cheeks a dusty pink. “You’re gorgeous,” he says.

Draco’s eyes widen for a second and then he raises an eyebrow, smiling with his teeth, “Am I?” he asks, shifting under Harry and making him groan. If anything, Draco’s smile widens and then his hands are on Harry’s ass again, taking control of their movements and moving Harry’s hips with each thrust of his own. He leans in close so he can lick Harry’s ear and  whisper, “I think you’re going to look gorgeous with my cock inside of you.”

Harry shudders in Draco’s embrace, moaning as different fantasies he’s had flash in his mind. He’d been wanking over the thought of Draco bending him over his desk for what feels like ages now, but was likely just a year or so in reality. “Fuck, Draco,” Harry moans. “Yes. Please,” he whines out, thrusting down against Draco’s cock shamelessly.

From the way Draco’s face is still pressed so closely against his, Harry can feel the pull of Draco’s lips forming a smile. “Let me see you, then.” He says, and then pulls away, settling back against the couch.

A shudder of arousal shoots down Harry’s spine at the dark look Draco is giving him, and he settles back against Draco’s thighs, reaching for the zip of his trousers. He bites his lip and pulls his jeans open, but from the way he’s sitting he can only push them down to mid thigh. After a moment’s consideration, Harry climbs up off Draco so he can shimmy out of his trousers, letting them fall to the ground with a small anxious laugh. Then he is standing in front of Draco in just his pants, and shivers, feeling slightly chilled and far too much on display.

“Come here,” Draco says, sitting up on the couch and beckoning Harry back with a hand that Harry willingly obeys. Long slender fingers grab Harry by his hipbones and pull him closer into the vee of Draco’s spread legs. Draco looks up at Harry for a moment, and then he leans in and presses a kiss to Harry’s stomach. He follows this with more fluttering presses of his lips along Harry’s skin, following the dark trail of hair that leads to and disappears in Harry’s pants. Then he’s hooking his fingers into the waistband and pulling them slowly off Harry.

Fully exposed and with Draco staring unabashedly at him, Harry feels a little overwhelmed and light headed. He catches himself from a stumble with a small laugh and his hands on Draco’s shoulders. Draco looks up at him, amusement curling his features upward. “Easy there,” Draco says before his fingers trail in from Harry’s hipbones and curl around the base of Harry’s cock.

He leans forward, eyes flickering down briefly before he catches Harry’s gaze again just as he kisses the head of Harry’s erection, featherlight contact that has Harry pulling in a tight breath. Briefly, he feels Draco’s lips curl into a smile, before he opens them and takes Harry’s cock into his mouth in a maddeningly slow movement. Harry squeezes his fingers around Draco’s shoulders, breathing shallowly. It is hard wrapping his head around the fact that this is actually happening, that he has Draco before him, and Draco has his lips around Harry’s cock.

Draco starts to move his mouth over Harry’s cock, setting up a rhythm that is hard for Harry to resist rocking his hips into, but Draco’s hands are back on Harry’s hipbones, stilling his movement before he even thinks of making any. Draco’s mouth is so hot and wet, and Harry feels like he could lose himself inside of it if he was allowed. By keeping a hold on Harry’s hips, Draco retains control over how quickly he wants to move, and dictates just what Harry can feel. Harry finds himself crying out desperately for more as Draco continues to tease him with slow movements and small licks on the underside of his cock.

Then Draco’s fingers start massaging behind Harry’s balls, slowly, hesitantly inching toward Harry’s ass. Harry groans, flexing his hips in Draco’s hands. “Please, Draco, I need–” Harry breaks off with another moan when Draco’s fingers reach and circle around his hole.

Draco pulls his mouth off of Harry, pressing a light kiss to the head of Harry’s cock that has Harry’s heart thudding in his throat, and then shoots Harry a smirk as he looks up at him. “What do you need, Harry?” he asks as he presses a slicked finger into Harry’s hole. Harry hadn’t even heard him acquire any lube, by spell or otherwise, and feeling Draco’s finger breach him had his knees going weak.  

He catches himself with his hands still on Draco’s shoulders, shuddering under Draco’s hands. “I need you.” Harry thrusts back into Draco’s hand as he adds a second finger.

“Mmm,” Draco hmms and kisses Harry’s jutting hipbone. “And what do you need from me?” He asks, looking up at Harry through his hair, looking very pleased with himself.

Harry shakes his head and slides his hands ups Draco’s shoulders to the back of his neck, holding his head in place as Harry leans down to kiss the smirk off his lips. He bends, and Draco slips his fingers out of Harry, hands cupping his ass instead as Harry crawls back onto his lap. “I need,” Harry says, breathing into Draco’s mouth. He reaches down and pulls at the flies for Draco’s trousers, tugging them open and loose. “I need these off of you, right now.” Draco smiles into Harry’s kisses and lifts his hips so Harry can tug his trousers and pants off all at once, in desperation to have nothing between their skin.

Now that Draco is naked before him, Harry sits back to take him in and feels his cock twitch in interest when he sees Draco’s erection standing tall and proud and leaking. He suppresses a shudder of arousal, still feeling a little overwhelmed by having Draco before him like this, but then he reaches out to touch–because if he can touch Draco right now then he can be sure this is real,  _this is happening_. When he circles his fist around Draco’s cock, they both groan out in pleasure, and then Draco is pulling Harry’s face down and kissing him roughly. And then Harry is shuffling closer in his lap, his erection bumping Draco’s and he takes them both in hand as best he can. Draco thrusts up, brushing their cocks together in the circle of Harry’s fist and it’s so much, and still it isn’t enough.

Harry pushes Draco fully back onto the couch and releases his own cock from his fist so he can move higher up Draco’s lap.

Draco is watching him, eyes wide, when Harry takes a firm hold of his cock and starts to lower himself down onto it. “Wait, Harry,” Draco says quickly, stopping Harry’s movements. “Are you sure you’re ready?” Draco bites his bottom lip in his insecurity and Harry feels like he’s tipping over with how much that small vulnerable look has him reeling.

“Ready as I need to be,” Harry said with a small smile, he is relieved a little that Draco is worried about him in this, but it isn’t necessary.

Draco’s hands fall on his hips again, “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says quietly.

Harry lowers himself until he can feel the head of Draco’s cock nudging at his hole, and he shoots a grin at Draco. “It’s fine, Draco,” he says, and slowly lowers himself more, letting out a long, low hiss of pleasure at the slow slide of Draco finally entering him.

Merlin, it’s even better than he’s been imagining all this time. As Draco stretches Harry open, making room for himself inside, Harry feels himself shaking a little, unable to fully keep within himself the feeling of complete rightness that has overcome him by having Draco so close. Once Draco is fully inside, Harry leans his head on Draco’s shoulder and lets out a panting laugh. Then Draco’s arms encircle Harry’s body, and they start to move together and Harry feels a little like he’s been flying apart at the seams his whole life and is only now coming back together.

When he kisses Draco, open mouthed and laughing still, he isn’t sure if the salt he can taste on their tongues is from the sweat beading on their faces from their fucking, or if he’s crying. He doesn’t quite care either way because he’s kissing Draco, and they are moving together, and then Draco shifts a little and hits Harry’s prostate and he finds himself gasping out of the kiss with Draco chuckling underneath him.

“You like that?” Draco asks, a little breathlessly.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, there wasn’t one very forthcoming anyway since Harry’s attention has been diverted by the divot in Draco’s collarbone, and then he’s driving into Harry, brushing against Harry’s prostate again and again. Harry is gasping and shuddering in Draco’s arms, thrusting himself down wildly onto Draco’s cock to chase the sensation. He loses himself in it, fucking himself on Draco, gasping and keening and he doesn’t realize he’s hissing actual words in parseltongue until Draco’s hips slow a little and Draco bites at Harry’s jaw.

“What did you say?” he asks, voice hoarse and wrecked.

Harry just blinks for a second as they find a rhythm together again, he had not realized he was speaking anything and has to think back. “Please,” he says in english, “Fuck me harder.” Then in parseltongue, _I can’t get enough of your cock_. He gets to see the way Draco’s pupils dilate even further with interest this time, before he is being pounded into once more and he just clutches Draco’s shoulders and back, enjoying the ride.

Draco snakes a hand between them and fists Harry’s leaking cock while he thrusts roughly up into Harry. He tugs on Harry’s hair and speaks roughly in Harry’s ear, “I want to see you come for me, Harry.” Harry bucks in his hand, then rocks his hips back against Draco’s upward thrust, it’s perfection. “I want to see you fall apart, Potter,” Draco whispers harshly and bites Harry’s ear before kissing his way along Harry’s throat.

Harry comes. He can’t do anything else but come, his orgasm making him shudder and moan in Draco’s arms as he falls pliant and loose onto Draco’s chest, while Draco’s hips keep thrusting up into his willing body. Harry moans at the feeling of Draco still moving within him now, and moves his hips still in time with Draco’s thrusts until Draco is shouting out his climax as he comes inside of Harry. Then he slumps against the back of the couch, breathing hard as he stares into space.

When they’ve recovered, leaning against each other on the couch, Draco runs a finger through some of Harry’s come on his chest and then brings it up to his mouth to taste. Harry can feel his spent cock twitch in interest at the sight, and then he’s surging forward to kiss Draco.

They are warm and loose curled up together, but also sticky and sweaty, and after a bit of sitting there, Harry wants to move to a more comfortable position. He slides out of Draco’s lap, Draco’s cock slipping out of him, and then stands up and offers a hand to Draco who is giving him a curious look.

“Come shower with me?” Harry asks, feeling vulnerable all over again. He’s not quite sure what Draco wants from him, wants for them; Harry knows what he wants. He wants to be with Draco, like how they’ve been as friends, but now with this. Now with more openness between them. He wants Draco in his bed in the mornings, and shared dinners at night. Harry knows what he wants, and he’s worried it won’t be the same as what Draco wants from him.

He’s not sure he could take it if this was a one-off for Draco.

But Draco has a small contented smile on his face and takes Harry’s hand, climbing up off the couch. “I’d love to,” he says and cups Harry’s ass with his hands, squeezing gently as he gives Harry another shark-like smile. “I’m certainly never going to get enough of this,” Draco says before leaning in to kiss Harry, opened mouthed and messy, claiming and promising all at once.


End file.
